He couldn’t help wondering why she caused him such a profound emotion in so short a time. No matter, he thought. This newfound feeling will only serve to be more challenging... more interesting... more worth waiting for.
Now his venom flowed through her veins, spreading the virus, and fueling the gift he’d given her. Jena’s lust for blood would be slow at first, and she would scarcely recognize the growing desire that would eventually take hold. It was already happening, in fact.
Soon she would welcome his embrace and crumble in submission.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the guarded door, lying in a hospital bed, Jena nearly let despair overwhelm her to the point of surrender. A sick taste of guilt welled up inside her, and she swallowed, forcing it down. Todd’s and Sophie’s deaths would forever haunt her memory.
She pulled herself into an upright position and propped her elbows on her knees. Instantly, she cradled her face into her palms and fell apart.
Why did I bring them to that cemetery? Jena asked herself. It’s my fault they’re dead.
Without warning, a voice whispered in her subconscious. It was so realistic, so compelling, that Jena covered her ears, desperate to silence the words.
“I am your death, and your life, Jena. And I’m here for... you.”
I don’t want any of this, she was thinking. This curse... I can’t deal with it by myself. My life is slipping away from me. I can’t...
A chill settled over Jena. No one would possibly understand or believe what she’d experienced. Nobody could. Except maybe the creature that had attacked her in the cemetery. She briefly closed her eyes as a memory came back to her of the same creature moving through the dark cemetery, brutally killing Sophie and Todd with its fangs and claws, and then that deep horrific pain of something biting into her flesh. Why did the man-beast let me go? she painfully thought. Now, she was to become that thing. It was only reversible if she could last one hundred and one days without killing for human blood. Then a horrifying thought came. Did the creature plan for this to happen?
All this was maddening. It took Jena a second to pull herself together and gather her thoughts before she completely lost her sanity. Why did he let me live? What does he want from me?
Why couldn’t she understand his meaning? And why—despite what he’d done to Todd and Sophie—did she feel compelled by his presence? It was as though she was spellbound.
“Jena...”
Jena lowered her hands and looked up. For an instant, she heard his voice again, piercingly vivid, almost as though he’d whispered her name into her ear—the alluring stranger with mesmerizing eyes, with that look of desire in them.
He couldn’t be the creature that murdered Todd and Sophie, Jena tried to convince herself. Surely, I would have sensed or felt something evil, or got a sign if he’d been the person responsible for their deaths.
“Yes, Jena,” the stranger’s voice whispered in her mind again. “You need me... the only one who can satisfy your desires...”
It seemed as though her inner subconscious was playing tricks on her, driving her to the brink of madness.
Jena decided immediately that her sanity—and her life—were over.
In realization, she didn’t know who the man was that mysteriously appeared in her room. He could be anybody. He could be a madman that escaped from the mental ward. He could be a hospital employee with a criminal past, or a serial killer preying on innocent patients. It could have just been her imagination. It was also a possibility she was losing her mind. Maybe he didn’t exist at all.
Frowning, she thought, what do my gut instincts tell me?
With a burst of courage, Jena came back to reality and said, “They’re telling me to give Angie a call.” Then she reached toward the nightstand, unhooked the charger to her phone, and searched through her contacts for her friend’s number.
Right after high school, both of them had moved apart from one another to live out their separate dreams. Although Jena had moved to California for art school and Angie joined the Navy, they never lost contact. Sure, they were busy with life—juggling careers and relationships—but they always found the time to maintain their friendship.
Holding her breath, Jena held the phone to her ear for several seconds, praying Angie would answer.
“Hey, girlfriend,” Angie said at last. “I haven’t heard from you in a while. Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine,” Jena lied, holding back tears. “How are you doing?”
“What’s going on, Jena? I can tell something’s off by the tone of your voice. Talk to me, girl. You and Todd didn’t break up, did you?”
Jena bit hard on her bottom lip, fighting the urge to fall apart. She could feel a lump in the back of her throat building, but she was determined not to cry.
“Angie,” she managed to whisper. “I’m in trouble.”
“You’re not pregnant, are you?”
Even though the situation was grim, Jena couldn’t help but crack a little smile.
Angie had always been so straightforward and blunt. That was one of the characteristics Jena loved about her. No beating around the bush. Angie told it like it was. She was honest and upfront, with a heart of gold. Angie wasn’t fake or the type to put on a front. She was the kind of friend that always had your back no matter the circumstance. When you think of Angie, the word fun comes to mind, among others: spontaneous, witty, and flirty, with the most contagious laugh and a stubborn determination. Jena had always admired Angie’s disregard for rules and routines. It was her way or the highway. Jena never experienced what it was to have a sister, but Angie was the closest thing, not to mention her very best friend. Without her, Jena felt completely alone in the world. In the last few days, Todd’s and Sophie’s deaths had taken a toll on Jena, and right now Angie was the only person she could trust. She definitely couldn’t go to her parents. They hadn’t spoken in years. Besides, they’d never believe her. They’d always blamed her ability to speak with the dead-on mental illness. Sometimes she wondered if they even cared whether she lived or died.
“No, it’s not that,” Jena finally said. Her mind was spinning. “It’s about Todd and Sophie. Something bad has happened.”
Angie grumbled something under her breath. “Jena, please don’t tell me they’re screwing behind your back. I swear—”
“They’re dead,” Jena cut her off.
“What—”
“Angie, th-they were murdered,” Jena stammered. “It was h-horrible.”
“Oh my God, Jena. I’m so sorry. What the hell happened?”
There was a moment of silence after Jena explained to Angie what had happened at the cemetery. She left out the part about the curse and the man-wolf. Jena thought it best to tell her in person.
“Hang tight, girlfriend,” Angie simply said. “I’m booking the next flight out there.”
Jena blew out a sigh of relief. “I knew I could count on you. Thank you, Ang.”
Before she ended the call, Angie said, “Don’t worry, Jena. I got your back.”
Chapter Nine
Tara looked over at the speedometer and then cast Brandon a sidelong glance.
“Brandon...” she grumbled.
“What?”
“Slow down. The roads are wet. You’re going to get us killed.”
“Take it easy, Tara.” He chuckled. “It’s just misting. I’m not going to wreck.”
“No, I mean it, Brandon. Please.”
He slid his hand across the seat to reach for her. “Come here, honey.”
She sighed and scooted away from him. “Damn it, Brandon.”
“What?” he echoed.
“Will you please keep both hands on the wheel?”
She saw a half-smile form at the corner of his mouth.
Tara stuffed her hands into the pockets of her fleece jacket and fixed him with a worried frown. “I’m serious,” she said. “It’s not funny.”
“Okay, okay,” Brandon said, easing his foot off the
accelerator.
She looked up at him and let out a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
He quickly looked away from the dashboard, winked an eye at her and said, “Sure thing, princess.”
Tara groaned. “I hate that.”
“Hate what?”
“When you call me princess,” she said, her voice laced with irritation. “It’s like you’re categorizing me as a drama queen.”
He cocked a brow. “Well, you’ve got your moments.”
“Whatever...”
Brandon smirked. “Why don’t you lay your head back and get some rest. You’ve got to be exhausted after pulling a double shift at the hospital.”
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” she said around a yawn. “Besides, we’ll be home in fifteen minutes.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. So, anything exciting happen at work?”
“Nope,” she shot back. “Unless you consider giving sponge baths and changing bedpans exciting.”
He grimaced. “Sorry, honey.”
“Hey, it’s just part of the job.”
He briefly took his eyes off the road and looked in her direction. “You have a big heart, Tara. I’ve never met anyone that cares for people the way you do.”
She smiled. “Thanks, babe.”
Her smile touched a private spot in his heart. With a nod, he turned away and focused his eyes back on the road. Silently, he wondered if he’d made a big mistake; the kind that could change a course in their relationship. After all, they had been living together for almost two years. Sure, they had their share of problems, but maybe this year he would find the courage to ask Tara to marry him. Maybe...
As they sailed along the highway, Tara leaned against her door and stared out the window of the pickup. The moon among the tops of the trees seemed to be watching her through the clouds, and the red color was both eerie and hypnotizing at the same time. Tara shivered and burrowed deeper into her jacket. Why did full moons make her think of creepy things like... ghosts, vampires, and werewolves?
“Hey, are you falling asleep?”
Tara turned to Brandon and muttered, “No, I’m not falling asleep.” She rolled her eyes and turned back to her window.
A few minutes later, she closed her eyes. The hum of the motor mixed with the sound of the windshield wipers and the rocking motion of the truck made her drift off. Tara was in a pleasant state between sleep and awareness, where everything seemed warm and safe. She forced her eyes open and gazed out into the darkness, out at the bloody moon. Then something fast-moving caught her eye. She focused on the side of the road. Something big was traveling swiftly through the tall, thick weeds, keeping pace with Brandon’s truck, but it was so foggy she could barely see a thing.
Tara looked over at the speedometer. They were going... sixty.
Her hands were gripping the edge of the seat, and there was a growing tightness in her chest.
Oh God...
“What the—” she gasped.
“What’s wrong?” Brandon mumbled.
Tara opened her mouth and tried to warn him, but never got the chance.
As a dark shape, the size of an enormous animal came out of the fog, Brandon hit the brakes and Tara screamed. The tires screeched and the truck skidded across the wet, black asphalt and began to spin. Whirling around in circles, Tara could see the monstrous, dark silhouette standing on all fours, statue-like in the middle of the road watching them with yellow, glowing eyes. Waiting...
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. As Brandon desperately tried to reach for Tara, his head slammed into the window, and the truck careened off the road, landing in a deep, muddy ditch. The impact nearly jarred Tara’s teeth loose. She screamed in protest when her body whipped against the seatbelt. All Tara could think in those last few seconds before she went unconscious was... we’re going to die.
He crouched on the road and waited. The image of the two humans, who appeared wounded, fueled its rage and gave the creature direction. The rage blended with hunger and consumed his mind in flames. Quickly, his crouching form slipped into the grassy, open field and moved in behind some bushes to watch his prey more closely. This is better, he thought, better for surprises, better for an attack.
Brandon and Tara did not see or hear the creature as it crept out of its hiding place on all fours like a tiger on the hunt, stalking its prey. After his visit at Jena’s room, he’d spotted the young couple leaving the hospital and followed their vehicle.
He circled around and around the pickup with the moon shining above him, deciding which one he was going to take first. He finally stopped outside the driver’s side and peered into the window. Inside, the couple lay unconscious and unaware of his presence. Preparing to strike, he paused, taking notice of his own reflection in the window staring back at him. Dark hair covered his face, and his amber eyes steamed with hatred. The humans were oblivious to his long, black claws that reached for the door handle.
As Brandon opened his eyes, they rounded in sheer terror. The creature’s mouth opened into a white grin of sharp teeth, and a low grumble that sounded almost like cackling issued from its hideous mouth. It looked like a wolf with distinctive human features, but it was as big as a horse. Its lupine ears came to a point atop its huge head and its pupils appeared split like a cat’s.
The predator and the prey stayed there staring at one another as though time had suspended. Savoring the moment, the man-wolf could already feel its fangs gorging on the warm flesh of the man’s jugular. As it tore the door completely from its hinges, Tara suddenly roused by the distinctive sounds of creaking metal and Brandon’s voice.
“Oh, God, Tara—run!”
He screamed in a voice she couldn’t believe was his. It grew into a long spiraling cry of agony as if being ripped apart. In the end, there was only a garbled wail streaming from his throat, joined by a terrifying howl of rage, followed by dead silence.
With a ragged cry, Tara tried to lift her head, praying Brandon was still alive. In desperation, she searched the driver’s side for him but found it abandoned. Blood took his place, coating everything. The seat... the steering wheel... the dashboard...
“Brandon,” she said hoarsely. “Brandon!”
As though she was in a dream, her sight blurry and mind disoriented, she saw something dark and sinister dragging Brandon across the grassy pasture as if he was nothing but a lifeless, flimsy doll. Then the sickening sounds of flesh and muscle tearing from bone echoed across the open grassland to Tara.
She moaned, swallowing back the pain. “H-help,” she breathlessly pleaded. “Someone please, help us.”
Lying there on her back, all alone in the dark cab of the truck, her head throbbed, and she struggled to comprehend what she had seen. Her brain felt short-circuited. All Tara could sense was the cold, wet mask of her face, and she wasn’t sure if it was tears or blood.
Finally, after several attempts, she managed to unfasten her seatbelt and reach for the steering wheel. She winced at the searing pain coming from her torso as she pulled herself up. It hurt just to draw even the shallowest of breaths. Just as Tara looked to where the door had once been, she saw Brandon’s murderer in the distance rise on its hind legs. It glared in her direction as if she was its next victim.
Oh, please... God...
When it set off after her, she grabbed the passenger’s door handle and pushed it open with the strength and ability brought forth by pure adrenaline. It drove her willpower to keep moving. A sense of calm descended, washing away the paralyzing fear. Before, she had Brandon to protect her. Now it was up to her to save herself.
No one can save you now but you, she tried to convince herself.
Tara fell to her hands and knees on the wet, mucky ground. On all fours, she forced her injured body onward and crawled until her bare hands felt the rough exterior of the road. Despite the pain and the loss of blood from a cut on her forehead, she managed to get to her feet. She was shaking so she could barely trust her legs to sup
port her weight. All the while, feeling dizzy and lightheaded, she kept waiting for the feel of the beast’s sharp claws, knowing it was getting close.
Without warning, a horn blared behind her. Tara flinched and whirled around as a black Hummer screeched to a stop only three feet away. She put her hand above her eyes to block its bright headlights, noticing another SUV as it pulled up alongside it. Then one of the windows slid down.
“Ma’am, are you all right?” said a man. His voice was a deep baritone.
Tara shook her head. Even though it was a complete stranger, she felt an immense sense of relief. When she turned to look for the creature, it was gone. It simply vanished, leaving nothing but empty shadows.
“P-please, I need help,” was all Tara could think of to say as she toppled forward and dropped to her hands and knees.
Seconds later, the sound of doors opening, voices exchanging, and heavy footsteps came next. Then she felt a pair of strong hands gently cradle her body as if she was a small child. The stranger lifted her off the ground effortlessly.
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” the man told her, carefully placing her inside the large SUV. “I’m a trained medic.”
As he placed a cloth on her forehead and applied pressure to the deep cut, she caught a glimpse of his face. He had the oddest color of eyes. They were so green the color glimmered in the darkness. He was dark-skinned and ruggedly handsome, reminding her of the character Raze in the movie Underworld.
His emerald-green gaze looked upon her with kindness as he began to examine her with professional efficiency. “Are you injured anywhere else?”
Tara moved her hand on her left side and gasped in pain.
“Easy there,” he soothed Tara, softly caressing her shoulder. “You may have some broken ribs.” Then she heard him speak to someone else. “We need to get her to the Bates Hospital.”
Tara listened to the other man say, “Shouldn’t we check to make sure no one else was in the accident?” He spoke with some kind of European accent.
THE IMMORTAL: A Novel of the Breedline series Page 7
